


Work Night

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: FNAF, Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: 2nd Person, Creepy animatrons, Gen, Indirect gore, OC liking Foxy from her childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 12:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the new night guard at Freddy Fazear's Pizzeria learns that maybe she made a mistake getting hired for the job, and Foxy is the one who teaches her.</p><p>(Yet another death in the FNAF guard ensemble.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Night

**Author's Note:**

> creeeeeepy yeah i just really like weird stuff like animatrons

There’s never been a time in your life that you’ve not enjoyed a good pizza. You’re a typical American teenager, after all. Pushing seventeen and still unemployed, thanks to the bomb of the economy now-a-days. You’re willing to work, of course, there’s just the problem of not being able to find any work.

So when your mother thrusts the morning newspaper under your nose and taps at it with the butt of a highlighter, your eyes light up. “Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria,” a help-wanted ad, very rare in these times, exclaims out in bold, serif typeface.

A slow smile stretches across your face as you continue to read. “16-25 years young, mature, friendly help wanted for a nighttime security guard position at our I-90 and West location. Please call 1-800-PIZZA-NFUN for more information! Pay up to $120 a week.”

Alright, so maybe the price-range is very attractive to you, and settles your decision to call the number listed, which you do so almost immediately. “Hello?” A frenzied voice responds after a moment of shrill dial-tone. The sounds of children laughing and garishly catchy pizza-themed music filters through the speaker, and you stumble on your reply.

“Y-Yes, hi, uhm, I’m calling for the after-hours security guard position?” You manage to force out, giving your peeking mother a thumb’s up.

“Oh, thank God.” The harried FFP employee responds, letting out a relieved sigh before continuing. “Please hold for just a second.”

The phone clicks and you wait with an air of confusion. You suppose maybe someone’s been breaking in or something? Why else would they be so relieved to get a reply to their ad?

They pick up again and you both agree to a date for your first shift. You head over to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria at just a little before midnight. By the time you’re out of your car, the last evening shift employee is rushing out of the building, clambering into theirs, and speeding out of the barren lot.

Such a hurried departure bothers you a little, and you take a minute to collect yourself before stepping into the cool night air and heading towards the doors. The glass swings inwards and you enter the building for the first time since you were a little kid.

You’d always had a predisposition towards Foxy the Pirate, Captain of Pirate’s Cove, and you smile fondly as you gaze out across the dining hall and arcade towards the stage. Of course the curtain’s down, as it dropped at the end of the last performance of the night.

With the smell of stale pizza and fizzy drinks pervading your olfactory cavities, you head towards the stage to get a closer look at your childhood friends. The heavy velvet curtain pulls away so you can peek inside, but it’s too dark for you to see anything. You fumble in your pocket and flick open the flashlight application on your phone, shining it behind the curtain before peering back at the now illuminated stage.

You jump at the sight of three serious looking animatrons staring directly at you. It takes a second for your heart to slow it’s pace, but you giggle a little when it does and let the curtain fall back into place. Absentmindedly, you remember how less terrifying they all appeared, when you were young and ignorant of R-rated films and Creepypastas, but wander over to Pirate’s Cove nonetheless.

Much to your surprise, Foxy’s hand is already reaching through the slit between the curtains. It must have still been extended when the curtains fell for the night, you muse, as you gently squeeze the metal of his forefinger.

A shock runs through your body at how warm it was, as if he’d just powered down. However, it’s past twelve, and you know for a fact that the Pizzeria closes to the public at six o’ clock pm. Maybe they had him on so they could clean him, or something?

You pull the curtain free, and that little thought flies out of the window. Foxy appears to be in a state of terrible disrepair, and you can’t help but feel a little pang of sadness at the sight of your favorite all alone on the dusty little stage.

In the distance, a phone begins to ring, and although it makes you jump, you scamper towards it after a second, waving over your shoulder at Foxy and smiling to yourself at your own childish antics. You locate the source of the phone within a few short moments; the security guard’s station. So, you have to admit that the worn office chair and creepy children’s drawings aren’t exactly inviting, but you settle in anyways.

You pick up and when you discover it’s a recording, zone out, riffling through the desk drawers before facing the achingly old computer and booting it up. It whirrs to life, but within seconds, the power surges and pops, shooting sparks from the outlet and plunging the room into darkness.

Damn it! Figures, considering the age of the place, but you really should have been more careful. You’d blown the power on the first night. Ugh. Dumby. Sighing slowly, you pull your phone back out and open the flashlight app a second time. Might as well try to fix it before admitting to the morning shift what you’d done.

Stepping into the hallway, you absentmindedly press the button to close the door, but nothing happens. You try the light next, and again, nothing seem to result from your actions. At this point, feeling like an idiot, you resign yourself to your fate and shuffle down the hallway, one hand flat on the wall.

It’s so greasy it makes you uncomfortable, but you put up with it, mentally chastising yourself for being so stupid as to have blown the power out. Way to keep a job, right? It takes you a few minutes of cursing under your breath after stubbing your toe on the molding, but you stumble against a doorframe and enter, flashing your phone within.

The contents of the room appear to be either out-of-service or extra animatron costumes, and you purse your lips slightly. Not too fun of a sight when blundering around an old building in the dark by yourself. Either way, you look around again, sighing softly.

A dum-dum-dum of padded feet on carpet makes your heart lurch, and it stops within seconds, only to give way to a rancid stench and foul sensation of someone-something-standing behind you. The sound of metal creaking makes your knees go weak with fear, and the last thing you see is the cold, empty eyes of one of the out-of-order animatrons before you.


End file.
